


Snap. Crackle. Pop.

by monimala



Category: Days of Our Lives
Genre: F/M, Gap Filler, POV Female Character, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-23
Updated: 2019-01-23
Packaged: 2019-10-14 20:57:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17515772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/monimala/pseuds/monimala
Summary: A filler scene for Xander and Sarah's 1/22/19 sexcapades, picking up from their kiss on the couch.He’s offering himself up on a silver platter. A sacrifice to her petty agenda, a balm to her wounded ego. Someone totally willing to do what Eric wouldn’t.





	Snap. Crackle. Pop.

"Well, I could stop saying anything...and just _make_ you feel better."

If the slight inflection in Xander’s voice wasn’t enough to tip her off, the look in his dark eyes leaves no doubt as to what he means. He’s offering himself up on a silver platter. A sacrifice to her petty agenda, a balm to her wounded ego. Someone totally willing to do what Eric wouldn’t. _Be used. Be there. Be hers._  

The seconds before he kisses her seem to stretch into hours. He moves in so slowly, it’s like they’ve fallen into some sort of time warp. Somewhere, underneath all the beer and vodka, she realizes he’s giving her the chance to say no. To pull away. To regret what he’s about to do.  

Fuck that. Sarah’s so tired of regrets. So tired of men trying to tiptoe around her feelings, spare her from their bullshit. So, when Xander’s lips finally make contact with hers, shockingly gentle and un-shockingly thorough, she assures him of her full consent. She falls on him, hungry and needy and letting the heat of his mouth and his body warm her everywhere she’d gone cold.    

It doesn’t take long for her to go up in flames. For him to haul her off the couch, hitching her leg over his thigh. She can feel his erection through the thin material of his sweatpants. Heavy, big like the rest of him, notching into where she needs him the most. She shouldn’t be this turned on this fast, shouldn’t be so wet already. But maybe she was primed from the moment he strutted into the room, all of that bare skin on display. Xander is a blatant exhibitionist, an obvious sensualist…a feast for her senses. His massive palms cradle her as he walks them backward toward the doors. He kisses her over and over…not just on the mouth, but everywhere he can reach. Her jaw, her throat, her collarbone. His voice rumbles in her ear, nothing smug or arrogant about it now, murmuring things like “you’re gorgeous,” and “I’m going to make you feel so good, darling.”  

She believes him. Sarah has zero cause to believe in men right now, but as he carries her up the stairs and shoulders open her bedroom door, she trusts Xander Cook to do exactly as he says.

To make her feel better. To make her forget. To make _them_ pay.

Sarah only lets him go long enough to take off her clothes. To toss her dress aside and shimmy out of her underwear. He leans back, watching her little show with hooded eyes, with naked appreciation. Like she’s unwrapped a gift for him and he has no intention of returning it. He has a present for her, too…and he groans when she slides her hand down the waistband of his sweats, grasps his cock and squeezes.

“See? I told you,” he growls, helping her yank his pants all the way down. “Snap, crackle, and pop. Total turn-on. A man would have to be a complete idiot to say no to you, Sarah Horton.”

Xander isn’t an idiot. He says yes a dozen different ways. Bearing her back down to the mattress. Lowering his head to kiss her again. Nudging her legs apart with his knee. The rough sensation of his chest hair against her bare breasts almost sends her jackknifing upward…it’s so erotic, so different from anything she’s experienced with all the manscaped medicos she’d dated thus far. She knows she’s a little bit drunk and more than a little bit hurt. That her senses should be dulled by alcohol and by pain. But she feels _everything_. _Every_ inch of him. The slide of their skin. The weight of his cock as he slowly presses into her. His blunt fingers stroking her clit without having to be directed.

Sarah never realized how exhausting it was to always be in charge, to have to _work_ for her orgasm. She doesn’t understand until Xander takes the responsibility away from her. Shushing her. Batting away her hands. Telling her “I’ve got this.” And he does. He makes her come once from his touch and then a second time from penetration, rocking into her deep and hard until she can’t think, can’t compare, can’t do anything but _feel_. It’s so good. It’s so unbelievably good. It’s more than she deserves.

“It’s exactly what you deserve,” he whispers like he heard her inner monologue. And then he crawls down her body, licking and nipping as he goes, and works her up for a third time. Worshipping her clit. Fucking her with his tongue. Apparently unconcerned about the taste of his own come...or just that committed to the pursuit of hers. God, he’s filthy. Maybe not what she deserves…but certainly who she needs right now.        

Someone totally willing to do what Eric wouldn’t. What Rex couldn’t. What no other man has ever deigned to do. _Be used. Be there. Be hers._  

Sarah snaps beneath Xander. She crackles in his arms. And when she shoves him onto his back and straddles him…oh hell yes does she pop.

 

-end-


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